Making a Choice
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: Rabastan has been captured, and things aren't looking too good for him... that is... until someone from his past shows up.


**Sup my friends.**

 **I'm back (for a limited time only!... jkjkjk) with another fic FULL of PROMPTS! (and sass, apparently. So sorry)**

 **Hey... have any of you seen Miraculous Ladybug? I'm currently obsessed and would love to talk about it with anyone!**

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 **First of all... This was written for The Quidditch League (I'm a part of the Falmouth Falcons), Round 11, with the Seeker prompt: Saw (2004)**

 **We are supposed to use the movie as inspiration, so I used this theme: someone** **intervening** **in someone else's life because they want them to live life to the fullest, and not be the crap person that they are being. Sorry if this is really vague** **—my brain isn't working at the moment.**

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 **This is also written for Hogwarts, where I'm a Slytherin (hiss hiss), Assignment #6—** **Foreign Exchange Task #2: Write about the differences between two people.**

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 **It is ALSO written for the Hunger Games. I shared my prompts with my district buddy (thanks Bex!) and have the Dialogue Prompt: "Please don't," and the Weapon Prompt: Rope.**

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 **The additional prompts (HG's Writing Club, Seasonal Challenge, and Gris-Gris Bag) are at the end of the fic.**

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 **Summary: Rabastan has been captured, and things aren't looking too good for him... that is... until someone from his past shows up.**

 **Warnings: Violence, abuse-type situations, a bit of torture (implied, not described for the torture)... I think that's it though. If I've missed something, please tell me. I'd like to have proper warnings for my fics.**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 1571**

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 **Making a Choice**

Harsh light flooded the basement in which Rabastan Lestrange was being held, and he glanced up, wincing at the brightness. The basement was a single room—more of a cellar than anything—lit during the daylight hours by a single overhead lamp that gave off a weak light. Whenever the door at the top of the stairs opened and gave Rabastan proper light, it was always painful.

"Food," Alastor Moody grunted as he slumped down the stairs, almost slamming a tin plate on the table—one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from the small table, there was two chairs and a small cot. If Rabastan was being honest, he'd have to say that this wasn't the worst living arrangement he had ever survived in.

"Eat quickly," Moody added, glaring at Rabastan with dark eyes. Rabastan had always dreamed of carving one of them out, but it seemed as if he would never get the opportunity. "They want to take you back upstairs for questioning."

Rabastan swallowed visibly; questioning was not something he enjoyed. Granted, he had endured worse with the Dark Lord, but at least with the Dark Lord he got to go home to a comfortable bed afterwards. Here, all he had was his little cot.

"You're not moving," Moody said, his voice gruff and harsh. He raised his wand, and that's all that Rabastan needed to get him to scramble up to the table and dig into his food as quickly as possible. Utensils were rarely—if ever—given, and he was used to digging into the mush with his hands.

Sure, he had endured worse with the Dark Lord, but Moody could pack a mean spell—the last time he had ignored food from Moody, he hadn't been able to walk for two days, and his left hand still shook slightly from the pain. Or the memory of the pain, maybe.

He barely had time to cram what was probably supposed to be porridge into his mouth before he was being dragged upstairs. It happened so quickly that he almost didn't get his feet under himself in time.

In the last month, he had gone up for questioning three times, and all three times he had said the exact same thing: he knew nothing of the Dark Lord's larger plans, and he only knew of the Death Eaters he had already given up the names of.

For the most part, the Dark Lord kept everything a secret. Each follower was required to wear their masks at all times during any sort of gathering, and only his inner circle was allowed to know anything in advance. All of the lower tier Death Eaters learned of strikes and raids roughly an hour before they happened.

Panic settled into his chest as Moody pushed him into a chair and tied his his ankle to the piece of furniture with a rope. The weak binding was humiliating, but the fear Rabastan felt at that moment was a stronger emotion by far. Sure, he had endured worse than with Voldemort, but nobody liked pain.

Well… Maybe Bellatrix did, but she was special. Rabastan sure as hell would struggle as much as he could to avoid it.

"Please don't," he breathed in a rough voice, ready to beg just like he had for the past month.

"No! I refuse to allow this to continue happening." Rabastan stilled as he heard the feminine voice angrily cutting through the air—he knew that voice. Oh god, he hadn't heard her in so long. His precious—

"—Andromeda, get out of here," Moody interrupted, straightening up from where he had been securing Rabastan's second ankle to the chair. "This doesn't concern you."

"This doesn't… This doesn't concern me?" she asked, her voice shrill. If only Moody would step to the side and clear Rabastan's line of sight; he wanted to see her so bad. Her cheeks were probably flushed, and her chest was probably heaving. She was flamed up enough that magic was probably dancing through her hair. "You are torturing a man, Moody. Torturing him!"

"No less than he deserves," Moody grunted, stepping to the side at last. Rabastan almost audibly sighed when his eyes finally landed on Andromeda. She was wearing a pair of black dueling robes, her long, beautiful brown hair was pulled into a plait, and she looked just as livid as she sounded—she was stunning.

It may have been her looks, Rabastan wouldn't have been surprised if it were, or it might have been the shock of seeing her after so long paired with how weak he had become sitting in the nearby basement, but Rabastan fell unconscious. The last thing he saw was the slight softening of her eyes when they met his.

...

When Rabastan woke up, he was in a bed. Not the flimsy little cot in the basement, but a proper bed with sheets, pillows, and even a blanket.

Andromeda was sitting in a chair beside the bed, a mustard-colored blanket pooled around her waist. She was no longer wearing her dueling robes, but a delicate, pink dress. Rabastan may have liked the robes better as they fit her fiery temper quite perfectly, but he couldn't help but admit that she looked beautiful.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're awake," she whispered when Rabastan moved his head. He found that he wasn't able to move anything more than that, though.

Frustration clouded his vision, and he let out a guttural noise, as he tried and failed to sit up. He vaguely heard Andromeda begging him to calm down—to breathe.

"Rab. Just close your eyes!" Andromeda shouted, her hands pushing down on his chest. It hurt like hell, but the contact kept him from drifting too far and falling unconscious again. "Breathe, Rab. Breathe."

Rabastan gasped painfully, but focused on her hands, letting their warmth wash over him—it was a nutritious kind of touch, something that his malnourished body craved, and craved more of. It took a little while, but he was able to calm down.

"Why…" he breathed, having to pause as a rough cough ripped through his throat. "Why are you helping me? There's no way… no way you can see anything redeemable in me."

Rabastan properly looked up at Andromeda, finding her warm brown eyes to be trained on him. "Just because I cannot see it, doesn't mean I can't believe it," she murmured softly, her hand moving from his chest to his cheek.

"You're too accepting," Rabastan muttered, looking away. He felt her hand fall away from his cheek, and he shifted in the bed, wincing at the pain in his weathered body.

"If it's love you want, it's all I have to offer." Andromeda's voice permeated the awkward silence that had settled, and Rabastan looked up, his features twisting in confusion. "I can try and give you something else, to persuade you to live a better life, but love… love is all I really have."

Her words caught him off guard, and he searched for dishonesty in her eyes, but couldn't find any. "You still love me?" he asked softly, disregarding everything else she had said. He had missed her so much—they had been together in school, and Rabastan had almost followed her after graduation, but the Dark Lord's enfluence had been too strong. Now that he was back beside her, he wondered how he could ever have turned her away; he could have lived such a good life.

"I hate you, Rab. I hate the choices you made, I hate how long you've been a part of the Death Eaters," Andromeda said, softly. "But my hate stems from love—for who you were and what we had—and I would do anything to get your life back for you."

Rabastan bit his lip and slowly reached his hand out to hold hers as it laid in her lap. "Is that why you're helping me? Because of… love?"

"No."

Rabastan wasn't expecting that response, nor was he expecting the intensity in which she spoke. "No?"

"I'm helping you because everyone deserves a chance for a life in which they can live to the fullest, so I'm asking you again. What are your terms? What can I do to persuade you to live a proper life?" she asked. Her strength pierced through Rabastan, and he was completely in awe of her. She was so beautifully strong.

"I had always wanted—" Rabastan started before trailing off, reaching a shaky hand out to touch her cheek. "I want a perfect soul, just like yours."

Andromeda leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. "No one has a perfect soul, Rab, but you can try to be better—we all can try to be better."

After taking a deep breath, Rabastan dropped his hand to his lap, looking down once more. He had done so much wrong in his life, and even though she was right in saying he could try to be better, he was hesitant to take a proper step in the right direction.

"Alastor took you from the Dark Lord, and I saved you from Alastor. You're safe here, with me, to make decisions for yourself, so what's holding you back?" Andromeda asked softly, persistently. "What are you afraid of?"

The silence was heavy for a moment, but Rabastan finally broke it. "I'm afraid of failing… but I think I'm ready to give myself a new life… and I have you to thank for that."

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 **A/N 2.0: Prompts**

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 **Autumn Seasonal:**

 **\- Day: November 10th - Forget-Me-Not Day: Write about seeing someone after a long time apart**

 **\- Autumn Prompt: (word): Drift**

 **\- Color: Mustard**

 **\- Birthstone: Opal - (dialogue) "If it's love you want, it's all I have to offer."**

 **\- Flower: Celosia - (word) Nutritious**

 **\- Air Element: (word) Breathe**

 **\- Audrey's Dessert: (premade cakes: cake 2) Write about wanting more of something.**

 **\- Ravenclaw Prompts: (trait) Accepting**

 **\- Astronomy: (emotion) Frustration**

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 **Gris-Gris Bag: (character) Rabastan Lestrange**

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 **Writing Club:**

 **\- Character Appreciation #16: (restriction) Main Character must be a pureblood**

 **\- Disney Challenge Dialogue #5: "Just because I cannot see it, doesn't mean I can't believe it!"**

 **\- Cookie's Crafty Corner #10: Write about someone strong**

 **\- Showtime #6: (word) Beg**

 **\- Count Your Buttons:**

 **-Dialogue #4: "What are you afraid of?"**

 **-Word #5: Fear**

 **\- Lyric Alley: I want a perfect soul**

 **\- Em's Emporium #4: (dialogue) "Close your eyes!"**


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